


Happy New Year

by The_Muses_of_Mars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9322859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Muses_of_Mars/pseuds/The_Muses_of_Mars
Summary: As a token of goodwill and friendship, Insomnia hosts a New Year’s Eve ball and invites the Empire to attend as the two great kingdoms of Eos celebrate the engagement between Prince Noctis and Princess Lunafreya. But not everyone’s rejoicing. (Noct x Ignis, Gladio x Prompto) Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended listening: "Waltz for the Moon," from the Final Fantasy VIII soundtrack.

It was New Year’s Eve and the Insomnia palace had been decked out for the festivities. The staff had hung the fancy drapes and broken out the good silverware just for the occasion. Streamers were wound ‘round the staircase bannisters and the chandeliers glittered with the flames of the thousands of candles reflecting against their sparkling crystals. Several of the palace guards had been put on firework duty and were preparing the equipment in the courtyard, while hundreds of balloons were trapped inside a massive net on the ballroom ceiling, waiting to be released at midnight.

The palace’s invited guests showed up to the party dressed to impress, and entered the ballroom to the luxury of red-carpet treatment. A fountain of champagne awaited them as soon as they had been formally announced, and each attendee could expect a personal greeting from King Regis himself. The air was filled with the music of an elegant symphony that seemed to go on forever, played to perfection by the royal orchestra. And the scents wafting from the boundless buffet table were certain to whet even the pickiest of appetites.

Ignis Scientia accosted a server carrying a tray of bubbly and procured a glass of pink champagne for himself, then quickly moved out of the way and found a secluded spot behind a column where he could observe the crowd and not attract any unwanted attention. After all, the tall, slender gentleman looked strikingly handsome in his black tuxedo, white gloves, and slicked-back, ash blond hair, and more than one lady’s eyes had wandered over his figure appreciatively. Yet he did not wish to be approached, for neither conversation nor dance. Behind his glasses, his emerald eyes scanned the throng for a familiar shock of dark hair. But it seemed the prince had yet to make an appearance.

The music halted abruptly and conversations suddenly hushed. Ignis’s attention shifted toward the orchestra to see if something had happened. It was then he saw what everyone else was looking at, and just as his gaze settled on an impossibly beautiful young woman wearing an exquisite sky blue ballgown, the crier announced: “The Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, Princess of Tenebrae.”

Ladies gasped and men’s eyes flashed as the vision in chiffon and silk floated into the room, light as a feather and airy as a cloud. Ladies flocked around the princess to admire her stunning holiday attire and the extravagant coif of her fine, blonde hair, chittering excitedly. As they encircled the young woman and bowed before her regal presence, the skirts of their gowns swept across the carpet like flower petals drifting from the boughs of a dogwood.

And then there he was, at last: Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, in a form-fitting, hand-tailored suit of blackest ebony, and all others stepped aside to allow Princess Luna’s gorgeous fiancé to greet her.

The two royals bowed to one another formally, then Noctis offered the lady his arm, his free hand moving to rest against the small of his back. She accepted, and the other women swooned while the men looked on with envy of their own. For a moment the prince’s stormy gray eyes met his proud father’s, and he nodded his dark head. With a smile the king gestured to the orchestra, and the music resumed as if it had never been interrupted as the prince and princess claimed a spot on the ballroom dance floor and fell into one another’s arms.

Ignis turned away, his back pressed to the towering stone column behind him. He downed the rest of his champagne in a single swallow, then swapped his empty glass for a full one the instant another server passed by with a tray, and drained it, too.

It was but two hours till midnight, yet felt like much longer. He needed air. And another drink.

Ignis approached the buffet table where a surplus of wine bottles had been set out to open as needed. He stole one away and hid it under his tuxedo jacket before he made for the balcony.

 

Prompto Argentum was running late—as usual—but it wasn’t his fault! His stupid tie had refused to cooperate, so he’d finally given up trying to force it to behave and left it behind. It was kind of modern, to show up to a super formal affair with the top button or two of one’s dress shirt undone, right? As he stood in front of the mirror in his room, checking himself out one last time before greeting the public, he hoped King Regis would think he looked hip, and not send him back upstairs in disgrace.

He tried to be discreet as he descended the stairs, but when the grand spectacle that was the palace ballroom came into view, he forgot to be self-conscious. He’d never seen so many people, such dazzling lights, or so much food! Everything was so fancy that for a moment he felt like he didn’t belong. But then he remembered he was a close personal friend of the prince, and he was going to be the best man at Noct’s wedding, so of course he was supposed to be at the engagement-slash-New Year’s party!

Grinning as he felt his shoulders relax, Prompto bounced down the stairs and made a beeline for the buffet. He suddenly realized he was starving, and it wasn’t often he got to eat the king’s own food.

Even dinner looked fancy, but the youth’s gaze locked onto the dessert table and would not be swayed. _What the heck, it’s a party!_ he decided with little hesitation.

Prompto seized a plate and then dove in, grabbing a fistful of bonbons (causing two women behind him to gasp), plucking three cupcakes from a rack (making a man behind him clear his throat quite loudly), taking two slices of cake (setting a trio of children off in fits of laughter), and then selecting four or five iced cookies shaped like wedding bells. Just looking at all the chocolate and caramel and sugar was making him thirsty, so when he moved down the line toward the champagne table, he cheered out loud. “Woohoo! Time for some drinky!” He reached for a glass stem, only to have his hand smacked away. “Ouch!”

“Aren’t you a little young for booze?” Suddenly a man with a booming voice was standing next to him.

“Yeah, but it’s a holiday, so…” Prompto looked up at the prince’s bodyguard, Gladiolus Amicitia…and burst into laughter.

Gladio was taken aback and embarrassed by the sudden outburst. “Would you get ahold of yourself?” he grumbled, his eyes shifting left and right. “People are staring.”

“Sorry, big guy!” Prompto wiped a tear from his eye and patted the larger man’s shoulder. “I’ve just never seen a behemoth in a suit before.”

“Hmph,” Gladio grunted, adjusting the tie at his neck self-consciously. “And just what do you think _you’re_ doing?” he demanded, pointing a finger at Prompto’s plate. “Does your New Year’s resolution involve a diabetic coma?”

Prompto popped a bonbon into his mouth with a shrug. “YOLO.”

Gladio rolled his eyes and heaved a heavy sigh. “Whatever. I’m gonna see if I can score. Just…keep out of my way.”

“What?!” Prompto choked on a cookie, spewing crumbs.

Gladio gave him a dark look, dusting off the lapel of his jacket. “And for your own sake, don’t let Ignis see you with that crap. He’ll lecture you for days.”

 

Outside, the air was quite cool. Small groups of guests and a few couples were loitering about the promenade, though as Ignis passed by them he heard more than one complaint about the cold and noticed the ladies hugging their shawls tightly about their shoulders. He felt nothing, save for an ache in his chest that would not subside.

He found a quiet bench in a darkened corner, the branches of a large, potted tree obscuring him from view as he pulled the wine bottle out from inside his jacket and struggled to uncork it with his bare hands. The cork pulled free of the bottle neck with a loud pop! but Ignis managed to aim it away from himself and keep his tuxedo dry. His throat, however, was parched, and he put the mouth of the bottle to his lips and drank deeply.

How had it come to this? How had his secret obsession gone so far? It had hurt to learn that Lunafreya and Noctis had become betrothed—even though the engagement was widely known to be a political ploy—but to actually see them together was an agony he could not bear. Why had he even come to the party, knowing he would see them? Perhaps he felt it was his duty as future advisor to the Crown to be present for such an auspicious occasion: the royal couple’s first public appearance since news of their impending nuptials had been announced. Or perhaps he had wanted to test the waters, to discover whether or not he could tolerate witnessing their union. Well, now he had his answer, he thought, taking another long drink of the robust red wine. Being here had served to do nothing but cause him immense suffering, and now that he was present at the party he had no justification to excuse himself. But he had his diversion, and he intended to make good use of it. By the time the guests were counting down the last seconds to midnight and marking the start of a new beginning, toasting their wishes and hopes and dreams for the new year, with any luck he’d be “toasted” into oblivion.

 

The waltz, the galliard, the minuet… One dance between the affianced royals had only served to stun the ballroom into silence. Two dances had drawn a huge crowd to watch. The third brought everyone to the floor, dancing gleefully. What a boon, to be able to boast of dancing alongside the future King and Queen of Insomnia! One dance had been vexing; two, tiresome. By the end of the third, Noct just wanted to rip the tie from his neck and breathe in peace.

Fortunately, Princess Lunafreya was in high demand, a long line of men waiting to take his place the moment they parted, and Noct was able to excuse himself from the dance floor, dodging would-be partners of his own. He hadn’t attended a ball since Lunafreya’s thirteenth birthday party more than a decade ago, which had been boring enough when he was a kid, but now that he was a young man he found them all the more dull and pretentious.

Noct didn’t make it far, however, before his father had materialized at his side and taken hold of his shoulder in a vice grip, steering him toward a group of Imperial dignitaries. He grimaced in pain both physical and emotional. The Empire had been their long-time enemy, but mere weeks ago he had learned he was being married off to their darling princess. He was nothing more than a pawn to these people, and he had no desire to spend any amount of time in their company, but the King of Insomnia was clearly giving him no choice in the matter…much the same as in any other.

“Chancellor Izunia,” King Regis called out as they approached a tight-knit cluster of men, “please allow me to introduce you to my son, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum. Noct, this gentleman is Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor to our good friends in Niflheim.”

Noctis had to be shoved forward before he would move an inch closer. The man called Ardyn Izunia arched his auburn brows at the young prince as though pleasantly surprised to have bumped into him here. It was the most insincere, smug smirk Noct had ever seen.

“Your Highness!” Ardyn sang out with a flowery waving gesture and an excessively deferential bow. His robes bore an ornate, stuffy pattern and far too many frills and ruffles to be taken seriously. “At last, we meet.”

Noct managed a stiff nod.

Ardyn gave the prince a cursory appraisal. His own hair was long and unkempt, his cape was rumpled, and Noctis noticed the man’s boots were caked in dirt. It was as if he couldn’t be bothered, or felt no need to impress or even respect the royal family of Insomnia. He also appeared to be far younger than any of the councilors and politicians Noct was used to; he couldn’t be more than thirty-five.

“So,” Ardyn intoned in a way that made Noct’s spine tingle unpleasantly, “you’re the strapping young lad who’s captured our dear Princess Lunafreya’s heart, hm?”

The other men chuckled.

Noctis didn’t laugh. It was a sick joke, and it wasn’t funny. It wasn’t even true.

“Shy thing, isn’t he?” Chancellor Ardyn appealed to King Regis. Then he turned his attention back to the prince. “We’re all _so_ looking forward to your visit to Gralea, Your Highness. Permit me to personally congratulate you on your engagement to the Lady Lunafreya.” He offered his hand for a shake.

Noct did _not_ want to touch him. He turned his head and looked away.

“A most kind and gracious gesture, Chancellor Izunia. We thank you,” King Regis responded in his son’s stead, placing his hand back on Noct’s shoulder and squeezing it painfully in warning.

Noct’s gaze turned sharply back to his father as he winced. Regis let him go.

“If you’ll please excuse me,” Noctis said through gritted teeth, “the princess kept me for three dances, and I’m in need of a refreshment.” He bowed just slightly, then walked away quickly before his father could stop him again.

 

“So these things were firing at me—like, a thousand rounds a second—and I was just dodgin’ bullets, swingin’ fists… You know, dancing around them like they were shooting in the dark.”

Gladio stood surrounded by nearly a dozen fascinated females who were hanging on his every word. Their eyes were wide and their cheeks were rosy with excitement as he regaled them with the tale of the time—according to Gladio—he took out a hoarde of Imperial forces single-handedly during one of their two kingdoms’ skirmishes.

Unbeknown to him, he was also attracting the attention of someone else.

“So finally, they must’ve gotten sick of having all their empty-headed toy soldiers slaughtered, and they sent in the big guns.”

“Empty-headed toy soldiers?” one of the women repeated.

“Yeah, the M.T.s—magitek troops. They ain’t real people, ya know.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. They’re robots.”

The women gasped. Some of them giggled nervously.

“Yeah, robots,” Gladio went on. “Anyway, I was breakin’ all their playthings, so the Empire sent out these ginormous, walking armored vehicles that started firing lazer beams right at me!”

Someone in the back of the crowd snorted.

Well, not very ladylike, but nevertheless Gladio continued, “So I just took my sword and chopped the legs clean off ‘em.”

“What then?”

“Well, the things just folded up like paper cranes and that was that!”

The ladies clapped, giggled, and crooned at him, all but fondling his muscles. Gladio was feeling pretty proud of himself right about them, but suddenly the heckler in the back stepped forward and put an end to his fun.

“A most amusing story,” a familiar voice rose above the din. “Tell me, did you come up with that little piece of _fiction_ yourself, or did you need the help of your pretty prince to concoct such a bold-faced lie?”

The gathering broke apart slowly, all heads turning to see who was coming to refute Gladio’s claims.

There stood Prince Ravus Nox Fleuret, elder brother to the Lady Lunafreya and a high-ranking officer in the Imperial army by his own right.

“It is a extraordinary sort of tale to recount, I think,” Ravus continued, stepping forward as the crowd made way. “What with this being a peaceful assembly, don’t you find it in poor taste to entertain your guests by discussing the tragic incident during which you and your prince trespassed on Imperial territory and vandalized government property, claiming dozens of innocent lives?” He had chosen to attend the ball in his formal military dress uniform, and with his shocking white hair and steel-gray eyes, he was as imposing figure as Gladio. And between the two, it was a close call to determine who was the handsomest; but while Gladio’s tattoos, battle scars, and boasts might be attractive some, there was no denying the charm and appeal of a beautiful and commanding prince whose quick rise to power was well-known and respected.

One of the women looked up at Gladio skeptically. “But…you said they were robots.”

Ravus burst into exaggerated laughter, then covered his mouth with the back of his hand. “Forgive me, mademoiselle. But our Imperial troops—magitek troopers, we call them—are biogentically engineered soldiers. I assure you, they are quite alive…albeit inhuman. But if you’re concerned with the loss of _innocent_ lives I mentioned, I referred to the living, breathing human beings who were massacred while on guard duty during the malicious attack on one of our storage facilities.”

“You assaulted guards at a storage facility?” another woman demanded accusatorily. “I thought you were fighting on the front lines before King Regis agreed to a ceasefire!”

“Uh… Well, no…” Gladio tugged at his tie. It was beginning to choke.

“Well, doesn’t that sound like murder?”

“Now, wait a minute—we’re at war with the Empire.”

“ _Were_ at war,” Ravus corrected helpfully.

“And they had it comin’. I mean—”

The women were slowly drifting away from Gladio.

One small, young girl remained at Gladio’s side, not quite ready to give up on him yet. “But, you _did_ dodge a thousand bullets a second, didn’t you?” she asked, her eyes questioning and her voice filled with hope.

“Well, of course—”

“Our weapons aren’t capable of such speeds,” Ravus interrupted, quickly adding, “nor are anyone else’s, I might add. The Empire’s assault rifles are capable of firing a thousand rounds _per_ minute, as are our submachines. Our weaponry is the most advanced in all of Eos.”

“What about the lazers?” the girl pressed. She was probably only about fifteen or so, and Gladio was beginning to wish she’d just go away.

Ravus cracked an amused smile. “They were missiles, my lady. But as I recall, Prince Noctis was the one who took out one of our armored vehicles, by commandeering a howitzer.”

Finally, the last of Gladio’s fans shifted loyalties and took up a position at Ravus’s side.

“Now, I think that’s more than enough horrific talk of bloodshed for one evening,” Ravus said more cheerfully. “Which of you lovely creatures would be willing to grace me with a dance?”

At once the women were arguing over who would be the lucky girl, and the whole Ravus Fan Club waltzed away, leaving Gladio standing alone.

He sighed. “I really hate that guy,” he muttered to himself.

 

It hadn’t been easy, but Noctis had finally escaped. He’d had to disentangle himself from the grasping paws of tween fangirls, seductive heiresses, and a wealthy widow or two, then evade his own fiancée’s detection—not to mention his father’s. But at last he’d ducked his head and made a dash for the balcony. He hoped here, at least, he could catch his breath and maybe have a moment of peace and quiet to himself. It might be just dark enough at the end of the walkway for him to get by without being noticed.

Unfortunately, the balcony was a little more crowded than he’d counted on. People were beginning to flock outside in anticipation of the final countdown to midnight, when the guards would set off a fireworks display that promised to be spectacular.

The prince turned his face to the wall and walked quickly down the promenade until he nearly collided with a potted plant.

“Ugh! Stupid tree,” Noctis grunted, rubbing his cheek where a branch had poked him.

He made his way around the pot and then came to a sudden stop. There, sitting alone on a bench on the other side of the shrub, was Ignis.

“You lucky son of a bitch!” Noctis said a bit too loudly, flopping down beside his court-appointed advisor. He noticed then that Ignis had a bottle of wine all to himself, and he reached out and took it right out of his hands. “I mean, I knew you were smart…but, damn, Iggy! Hiding back here with your own private stash…that’s just ingenious, man.” He put the bottle to his lips and took a satisfying gulp.

Ignis was so stunned he didn’t even try to keep his grip on the wine bottle. His mouth fell open and he forgot for a moment how red his eyes were and how badly they ached. He just thought to himself, _I must be far drunker than I thought._

Noct leaned his head back against the pane of a window and closed his eyes, breathing a sigh of sweet relief. Fortunately the drapes on the other side of the glass hid them from view, because he did not want to get caught, now that he’d finally gotten away.

He smiled as a cool breeze ruffled his long, black hair. “I should have come out here with you a long time ago,” Noctis murmured happily. Then he opened an eye, glaring at Ignis. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming outside, anyway? I'd have come with you.”

Ignis’s lower jaw worked as he struggled for a suitable answer. Finally, he was able to reply, “You were otherwise… _engaged_ , Highness.”

“Well, I’m free now,” Noctis said rather flippantly. He took another long drink of wine, smacking his lips with satisfaction. “It’s good. You have fine taste, Ignis.”

Ignis looked the boy over with regret. “I’d like to think so.”

Noct gave him a little smile and set the bottle down on the ground at their feet. It was half empty. “Have you been out here all night?”

“Well…almost. Nearly. Almost, nearly…a few hours, perhaps.”

“Ignis?”

“…Yes, Highness?”

“You’re drunk.”

Ignis flushed scarlet. “M-my apologies,” he stuttered in embarrassment. His head was swimming and the prince was sitting right beside him and he’d been thinking about him all night and avoiding seeing him with Lunafreya and wishing he had control over his own heart and drinking and drinking and drinking…

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Noctis laughed, slapping Ignis’s thigh. “I just wish you’d told me so I could have been spending time with you instead of…you know.” He sighed, his gaze downcast.

Ignis blinked the fog from his eyes and took a long, hard look at the prince. Noctis hadn’t really had a choice in the matter, but it was the first time Ignis had ever heard him speak of his engagement with regret. This was the first time it had even crossed his mind that Noct wasn’t happy.

“Don’t do it,” Ignis whispered without meaning to.

“What?” Noct looked at him. “Don’t do what?”

“Just…” Ignis shook his head once, slowly. He tried again. “You should do what makes you happy. You should _be happy._ You _deserve to be happy._ ”

The prince stared back at him for a long time. Ignis began to wonder if he’d slipped into another language unintentionally. That had been known to happen when he’d become inebriated in the past. But then Noct said, “Thanks, Ignis. It’s nice to know someone gives a shit about how I feel.”

“Oh, Noct…” Ignis’s eyes burned and his throat ached. “I have no words… Suffice it to say…I care a very great deal about your feelings.”

Noct smiled gently back at him.

Suddenly someone stepped out onto the veranda and called out loudly, “One minute till midnight!”

 

_“One minute till midnight!”_

The orchestra abruptly ended their final song for the evening, leaving Prompto without a dance partner. Turned out those Imperial girls were pretty fun, but they vanished just as quickly as the music. Prompto gave the band his heartfelt applause and a cellist smiled and waved.

Grinning happily, Prompto started wandering away from the dance floor. It seemed as though everyone was getting ready for the grande finale. Some were filtering outdoors for the fireworks, others were seeking partners for the traditional first kiss of the year.

Suddenly, Prompto noticed Gladio heading his way.

“Heya, big guy!” he greeted as Gladio reached him. “Great party, huh? So what’s up?” He saw the other man was alone, and looked around in confusion. “Didn’t you, uh, ‘score’?”

Gladio grunted in response, looking rather put out.

“Aw. You struck out, huh?” Prompto gave the older man a sympathetic smile. “Oh, well. There’s always next year!”

Gladio crossed his arms and shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever. No big deal. I’m just glad this party’s almost over.”

Prompto sighed. “Yeah. It was fun, but I’m getting pretty tired. I was actually thinking about heading on upstairs—you know, beat the crowds before everyone’s rushing for the door.”

“What, and miss out on your first kiss of the year?” Gladio teased.

Prompto frowned and threw his arms out to the sides. “Uh, hello? Do you see anybody over here?”

_“Ten seconds!”_ someone cried.

Unperturbed, Gladio looked down at the boy with a more serious expression. “How ‘bout me?”

Prompto’s eyes widened impossibly. “Huh?”

_“…Nine! …Eight! …Seven!”_

“How about me, for your first kiss?”

 

“They’ve begun the countdown,” Ignis remarked, sitting up stiffly. “I…assume you’ll want to find the princess?”

“Why, so I can give them a good show?” Noctis snorted. “No, thanks. I’m good right here.”

“Yes, but…” Ignis didn’t want to even think about a kiss shared between Noctis and Lunfreya, but… “What about tradition?”

Noctis turned to face Ignis.

_“…Six! …Five! …Four!”_

After hesitating for just a few seconds, the prince unexpectedly reached up and wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck.

“Y-your Highness!”

_“…Three! …Two! …One!”_

Noct smiled gently. “You said I should do what makes me happy,” he reminded Ignis. “So…”

_“Happy New Year!”_


End file.
